The New Leader of the Pride - Reloaded
by Drauchenfyre
Summary: REPOST OF A FORMERLY REMOVED STORY- A different fourth year for Harry, with a new, more active Head of Gryffindor standing up for him.
1. This is the Warning

**The New Leader of the Pride**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE (DATE: 9 SEP 2015):** To my readers—I am sorry. I am sorry that I took this story down because I was dissatisfied with it. I am sorry I ignored you, my readers, and took away a story many of you complained was "too good to remove" (you know who you are). Time crunches and the responsibility of school are still making it difficult for me to make progress in this story, either rewriting or moving forward.

So, here's what I'm going to do: the twelve existing chapters are hereby reposted. I will endeavor to advance the story from here (with rewrites put off until I have a solid reason). If anybody wishes to contribute ideas on how I can move forward, post a review and I will credit any ideas that I use. I already know my endgame—getting there is the problem. Without giving away too much (I hope), Samuel Glyphs is maneuvering Harry into grabbing the Triwizard Cup and being sent to the graveyard to resurrect Riddle. Samuel's reasons, however, are far more benign than either Albus's or Riddle's, and are geared towards Harry having a version of "happily ever after" with the girl of his dreams (HHr, people!)

That being said, here's "The New Leader of the Pride."

Chapter One: This is the Warning...

Summary: Just before the new school year begins, Severus Snape has the "new rules" laid out for him by the new Head of Gryffindor...

AUTHOR'S DISCLAIMER: This chapter is written from the perspective of Severus Tobias Snape, and thus reflects the views and opinions of a childish, petty, bigoted greaseball with delusions of humanity, not the author.

*****STORY*****

 _24 August 1994_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _0934 GMT_

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, gave one final glare at the man seated across from her. "Are you certain you can handle this?"

"Oh yes," replied the man. "It's time to shake things up a bit around here. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to have a quick chat before the staff meeting."

Minerva rolled her eyes, "What are you planning to do to him?"

"Not much," smirked the decidedly un-British voice, "But I find that, if you're forceful enough when you give the first warning, most people don't need a second. Of course, he might just be stubborn or stupid enough to require more... _detailed..._ instructions." With that, the man spun and strode out the door, leaving Minerva pinching her nose. This was going to be one of those years.

IIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIII

Severus Snape was in a mood. You might question when he wasn't in a mood, but this was a particularly bad one. The Potter Spawn was returning for his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The previous year had ended with Potter and his Mudblood robbing Severus of his righteous revenge against that criminal Black, and the Order of Merlin he would have received for it. Then, the old goat fondler had changed the grades from the well-earned T's to A's, undermining his authority. Like the spawn of James Potter could possibly be worth anything! Sweeping through the halls with his billowing cape action on full, he headed for the teacher's lounge on the third floor, where a faculty meeting had been called on short notice. All of a sudden, a blinding pain struck the left side of Severus's face and he lost consciousness before he even realized he was under attack.

IIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIII

Severus Snape regained consciousness upside down, cocooned in rope, stripped naked, and suspended over a pit of scorpions. He knew exactly who had done this. Only one person with access to the castle was this melodramatic, and prone to tormenting him for no reason (well, only one since he'd successfully gotten that mongrel werewolf thrown out like he deserved).

"Glyphs."

"Morning, Greaseball!"

As always, Samuel Jason Glyphs, Professor of Ancient Runes, was far too cheerful for this early hour. The only son of Aberforth Dumbledore's illegitimate daughter, he was the Headmaster's great-nephew, a title that seemed absurd to apply to a man in his seventies. Turning to the annoying, American voice, Severus saw the smirking man leaning casually against the wall, the other end of the rope holding Severus held in his left hand.

"What brought this on, Glyphs?"

"Oh, not much, Greasy, just thought we could have a little chat."

"Will youstop calling me that, you insufferable twit!"

"I'll stop calling you that when you demonstrate that you can operate a shower... and actually start using it."

Severus fumed. Glyphs had always had that insolent attitude he found all too common amongst those damned colonials. The fact that he was the Headmaster's great-nephew, a well-respected expert in his field, and had been on staff longer than anyone except Dumbledore, Hagrid, McGonagall and Binns, had left the mischief maker with an arrogance that Snape found all too similar to one James Potter. Combine that with the fact that Glyphs was Esper-Blind- a rare magical gift which made him immune to all forms of mind magic, both malicious and benign- and Snape couldn't even Legilimens his way out of this mess.

"What is it you want!"

"As I said, I wanted to have a little chat with you. See, Minnie has decided that a full-time teaching schedule, being Deputy Headmistress and being Head of Gryffindor has become too much anymore. She says she's getting too old- HA! I know girls twenty years her junior who wish they were _half_ as smokin' hot as Miss Kitty! Anyway, she decided to step down as Head of Gryffindor and named _me_ as her successor."

Severus had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Samuel Glyphs as Head of Gryffindor- he would be safer with Black. This could end badly...

"Now, see, Captain Exxon, now that I'm Leader of the Pride, things are gonna change around here. You got away with a lotta crap because Min had to be objective as Deputy Headmistress - something that actually prevented her from being an effective Head of House. They really shouldn't let someone hold both positions, too many conflicts. Anyhoo, this is your official notice, Syphilis. Unlike Min, I'm gonna be watching the Punishments Book. Anytime you take points off my Gryffies for a made-up reason, I'm gonna take points off your Snakes for the exact same reason. Since you seem so fond of giving detention to Mr. Potter for whatever flimsy excuse you manage to concoct on the spot, I'm gonna start reciprocating against Mr. Malfoy. Hagrid could always use help cleaning up after his beasties- who knows, if the blond ponce does a good enough job, at some point we might even give him a shovel!"

Severus seethed. "You can't do this, Glyphs!"

Samuel's smile took on an evil smirk. "Oh, but I can, Snotbeak. You've been abusing your power over my cubs since the day you started here at Hogwarts. That stops now. I'm gonna make you behave in a professional manner even if I have to fight dirty and stoop to your level to do it. Oh, and make sure Bad Faith and his Junior Trolls know that there will be consequences to crossing the Great Hall to taunt my Lions. The Weasley Twins will be granted permission- by me- to prank the living shit out of the little snot if he's spotted west of the Ravenclaws in the Great Hall. Trust me- it won't be pleasant."

Glyphs lashed out his free hand, grabbed the front of Severus's ropes, and pulled him towards himself until they were looking each other in the eye. The smirk was now positively evil. "This is the warning, Severus." Severus knew he was in trouble. With Samuel Glyphs, referring to _anyone_ by their correct given name was a sign that things were about to get bloody. "There's a new leader of the pride, and a new sheriff in town. Teach those Snakes of yours to behave like the civilized beings they pretend to be, or I'm gonna start making me some snakeskin boots."

With that, Glyphs laughed maniacally- and released both ends of the rope.

Severus plunged into the scorpion pit below his head, screaming. Upon landing, he continued to scream for almost a minute before he realized that the scorpions hadn't touched him. Cracking an eyelid, he saw the 'scorpions' crawling through solid objects.

An illusion! Another of that Yank bastard's illusions!

Looking up, Severus saw that Glyphs wasn't at the edge of the pit. Working his way out of the ropes (and hoping Glyphs had left his clothes nearby- with him you could never tell), Severus contemplated what he'd learned. Glyphs seemed bound and determined to destroy him as a Head of House, and that frightened him. While James Potter and his gang of miscreants had harassed him for years, there were still lines they had never crossed. Glyphs, however, was just crazy. Like, Bellatrix LeStrange crazy. He was more than willing to be dangerous if he felt a need to be. It was time to warn his Snakes, and one Snake in particular, that they would need to tread lightly.

IIIIIIIIIICHAPTER ENDIIIIIIIIII

A/N: Well, I've started making progress on the rewrite. Hope you enjoy my refined, expanded version of "The New Leader of the Pride!"


	2. House Meeting

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 2: House Meeting

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _The Great Hall_

 _1 Sep 1994_

 _1723 GMT_

"And finally," Dumbledore said, drawing the attention of the Hall, "Our dear Professor McGonagall has decided she has stretched herself too thin, and has stepped down from her position as Head of Gryffindor House." Protests from the Lion's table were waved down by Dumbledore. "Replacing her in this position will be Professor Samuel Glyphs, Professor of Ancient Runes and former United States Marine." The sandy-haired man next to Professor McGonagall rose briefly and waved, then stated, "After the feast, I'm calling a House Meeting in the Gryffindor Common Room. Attendance is mandatory."

 _Gryffindor Common Room_

 _Same Day_

 _2102 GMT_

The gathered house of Gryffindor sat, buzzing about the Triwizard Tournament that the Headmaster had announced that evening. Harry Potter, feeling a sense of dread, sat between his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, sure that this Tournament would be nothing but trouble. Given his past track record, he was sure he'd become entangled in that mess one way or another.

With a BANG that made half the room jump, the door to the office of their Head of House flew open, revealing a middle-aged man in what the Muggleborn would call a 'detective outfit'- slacks, wing-tips, dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, suspenders and a fedora. He even carried a trenchcoat over one shoulder and held a toothpick in his teeth. Hermione Granger was one of the few in the room who recognized the man- Samuel Glyphs, Professor of Ancient Runes.

Glyphs cleared his throat, to mixed results.

"YO! PIPE DOWN!"

Whatever else they knew about Glyphs, they now also knew he had a strong set of lungs on him. Gryffindor settled down.

"For those of you who don't know me- which, judging by the confused looks on your faces is most of you- my name is Samuel Jason Glyphs, Professor of Ancient Runes. Over the summer, your former Head of House, Professor McGonagall, came to the conclusion that she was stretching herself too thin, by holding three posts here at Hogwarts. She feels that it is best to hand off the Head of Gryffindor position to someone who has the time to watch out for you the way you deserve."

"Professor McGonagall feels she has failed you, by allowing Professor Snape's blatant bias against non-Slytherins in general and certain individuals in particular-" here several glances were shot at Harry, Neville, and the Weasley twins, but not by Glyphs- "to see far too many of your dreams dashed. To that end, you will be happy to note that, in addition to a Mastery in Ancient Runes, I also hold one in Potions. I also have a non-magical degree in Teaching, meaning I have specific training in how to teach properly, something our current Mastery system does not emphasize. To that end, I will be posting a schedule on my office door here where I will have weekend lessons to help any Gryffindor who is interested learn what that grease-stain has failed to teach in between his bouts of verbal abuse. Remember, when you graduate Hogwarts, your class grades and discipline record aren't looked at by potential employers. Only your OWL and NEWT scores make it onto your CV. If you're willing to put in the time and effort for extra lessons- lessons I'm giving on my own time and initiative- I think we can see a marked improvement in Potion scores in this House."

"My last point tonight is the PATHETIC state of health in this House. You are GRYFFINDORS! YOU ARE THE BRAVE! THE NOBLE! THE HEROIC! YOU CAN'T EVEN SAVE YOURSELF IF YOU'VE GOT A FLABBY BELLY WHILE STILL A TEENAGER! So every person in this House will be dressed in the Physical Education uniform the House-Elves placed on your bed at five a.m. tomorrow morning and gathered here in the Common Room, where I will call roll. Trust me, you don't want me to come drag you out of bed- my Aguamenti charm comes out ice-cold. After a few stretches, we'll start a basic, low-level workout to start whipping your butts into shape. A healthy body is more energetic, more alert- healthy wizards gain clear enunciation, precise muscle control for wand movements, and a more powerful core. The next Dark Bastard that tries to terrify the populace will have a core of healthy, skilled Gryffindor civilians cutting him off at the knees, and if I have to kill half of you to pull that off, that's what's gonna happen. I suggest you all get to bed now, you have an early wake-up call tomorrow. DISMISSED!"

CHAPTER END

A/N: I decided it made more sense to have Glyphs introduced at the Feast, rather than introduce himself cold in the Common Room.


	3. Shakin' It Up

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 3: Shakin' It Up

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

The Great Hall

Fri, 2 Sep 1994

0631 GMT

Albus Dumbledore was becoming slightly worried. Though the breakfast period had begun half an hour before, not a single Gryffindor was at their table. Though breakfast ran for another hour and a half, the other three Houses were all well represented, but not a single Lion was eating.

A loud whistle blast tore through the air. The doors at the far end of the Hall burst open and, two-by-two, the Gryffindors, led by the Seventh Year Prefects, marched into the Great Hall, towards their table, the two lines dividing to go up either side of the table. Bringing up the rear, in identical clothing to his students (Albus thought they were called 'sweats'), was their new Head of House, Samuel Glyphs. A whistle between his lips gave a sharp TWEEET, and the students stopped, aligned with the table.

The whistle dropped from his lips as Glyphs barked out, "TAAAAKE... SEATS!" The Gryffindors scrambled into their chairs as plates already filled with food appeared at each place.

As Glyphs walked up and down the table, most of the students dove into their meal. When Glyphs was passing the fourth years, he suddenly spun and slapped his open palm onto the table. "WEASLEY!" he started, then lowered to a more normal volume when he saw he had the boy's attention. "Are you a human or a wild animal?" Pointing at each in turn, he continued, "That is a fork, that is a knife, that is a spoon. Use them. I catch you shovelling your food into your mouth bare-handed like a savage again, it'll be ten laps around the lake. Got me?"

Ronald Weasley, frightened fourth year, frantically nodded, then grabbed knife and fork.

"Weasley act civilized? You'd do better trying to civilize that oaf Hagrid!"

A loud THUNK drew attention to Draco Malfoy, as the sudden appearance of a large knife protruding from a support beam six inches above his head had cut off his obnoxious laughter.

Nor was the culprit hard to find. Glyphs was staring straight at the Malfoy scion, glaring and still holding his throwing stance. "Mr. Malfoy," he began in a menacingly-smooth voice, "As I am in full possession of my faculties and can speak for myself, I have no need of assistance in dealing with my House. I strongly suggest you keep your attention, and your comments, on your own table instead of braying like a donkey across the entire Hall."

Draco Malfoy, never one for critical thinking, exploded, "Wait til my Father hears about this!"

Glyphs smirked, "And once again, you prove your inadequacies, Mr. Malfoy. Hiding behind Daddy's name like the snivelling coward you are- certainly not a Gryffindor. Your lack of cunning in making obviously derogatory comments in the Great Hall- hardly Slytherin of you. Your lack of intelligence in insulting not one but two of your teachers with hundreds of witnesses- no Ravenclaw here. Add to that your demonstrated lack of a solid work ethic, and you certainly don't belong in Hufflepuff. I wonder, Mr. Malfoy- if we were to ask the Sorting Hat, would it tell us it placed you in Slytherin because you didn't fit anywhere, so he just put you where you wanted?"

Draco Malfoy opened his mouth again, only to have Snape's hand come down hard on his shoulder. Some hurried, angry whispering passed between the two, and Draco, still fuming, settled down. Glyphs turned back to his students as fourth year Lavender Brown asked, "Professor, why is there no bacon or breakfast potatoes?"

"Because, Miss Brown," he replied, "Those foods are dripping with fat and grease, which causes fatness, shortness of breath, and outbreaks of acne. Your diet here will be designed to get you fit and healthy. What slows down most wizards in battle is the fact that they have no stamina. Out-of-shape, out-of-breath wizards lose in any prolonged fight against someone with the staying power to outlast them. Besides, Miss Brown," here he smirked at the Gossip Queen of Gryffindor, "Do you have any idea how much time those fashion models in your magazines spend working out, how closely they monitor their diet, so they can look their best?"

Lavender Brown blinked, twice, then grabbed her spoon and dove into her half-grapefruit. Across the entire hall, the more appearance-conscious girls started whispering to each other about this fitness regime that the Gryffindors had going.

Albus Dumbledore sighed. He was starting to get that sinking feeling again. Samuel was on one of his crusades. This was going to cause him headaches.

CHAPTER END


	4. Bring On the Headaches

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 4: Bring On the Headaches...

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Deputy Headmistress's Office

2 Sep 1994

"Comparing them to models, Samuel? Are you out of your MIND?! You DO know how fragile a teenage girl's self-image is, don't you?"

Samuel Glyphs rolled his eyes at the fiery Scot glaring at him. "First off, Min, what is the most important element in teaching ANY subject?"

"It varies with every subject, Samuel..."

"WRONG, Min. The MOST important element in teaching ANY subject is MOTIVATING YOUR STUDENTS TO WANT TO LEARN. Miss Brown is giggly, gossipy, fashion-conscious, and far more concerned with her horoscope than her homework. Tell her that exercise and proper diet will help her class performance, and you'll get a shrug and lackluster performance. Tell her it will give her the bikini body and clear complexion she wants ANYWAY, and without dangerous potions or Healer procedures, and BAM! Dedicated follower of the exercise regime. She'll follow it for her looks, not her class performance. That's what motivates her, and Mr. Finnigan, who thinks the muscles will help him pick up 'birds'. Potter and Weasley see the Quidditch advantages. Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom are attracted to the enhanced class performance, not just for them, but for their friends. The key is pointing out the right advantages to each."

"But Samuel, we've not had a physical fitness program in this school for years..."

"Which is why we almost lost the last war. Min, you're more powerful AND more skilled than I in a magical duel. Yet I constantly beat you in our semi-regular practice sessions. Do you know why?"

"Er..." Minerva McGonagall blushed. Albus and Samuel were the only wizards in the castle who could regularly beat her- not even Filius, the former professional duellist, could take her head-on. "I had always assumed you had more power than me. You are a Dumbledore on your Mother's side, after all."

Samuel shook his head. "Mom had Dragon Pox during her pregnancy. I was born with an underdeveloped core. My Hammerstein is 48- not that far above Squib level. The Healer told Mom that I avoided being a Squib only because my genetics made my unaltered potential so high- Dad was no slouch in the power department either. I beat you because I stay in shape. I can dodge most of what you throw at me, conserving my own strength for when you tire yourself out, then blindside you when you're exhausted. Spell knowledge and magical power is only half an arsenal. Put those in an able body, and you have a mighty magical warrior, one that won't be an easy mark for the next Dark Dork that tries to conquer our little corner of the world."

"But Albus-"

"Yes, Min, Albus is a great man, but he is just that- a man. He's not God. He has his flaws, just like all of us, and Uncle Albie's biggest one boils down to arrogance. He's been treated like the Second Coming of Merlin for so damn long, he's started believing his own hype. Me, I'm flawed too. I have a tendency toward obsessiveness, and can get overly aggressive at times."

"Yes, Severus was in here at the end of August complaining about your last 'meeting'. Really, Samuel, hanging him upside down over a scorpion pit?"

"I wanted to make sure I had his attention. If I thought he'd actually be inclined to listen without threats, I'd have tried that. I was just making sure he wouldn't ignore me, or have grounds to say I didn't warn him."

IIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

4 Sep 1994

7th Floor Corridor

Outside Gryffindor Tower

"GLYPHS! I want a word with you!"

Samuel turned, a smirk on his face. "Lucius, it's been years. How's the wife?"

Lucius Malfoy paused, recalling the last time he and Samuel Glyphs had met face-to-face. It was that horrible night when their peaceful political Traditionalist movement came fully under the sway of a madman. Tom Marvolo Riddle, once a charismatic and handsome young man, had gone through some disfiguring transformations that left him on the wrong side of crazy. He had killed his right-hand man, Caracticus Burke, and declared himself the Dark Lord Voldemort.

To this day, Lucius still wished he had had Samuel's courage that night. The American-born professor kneed Riddle in the balls, called him a 'demented ass-clown', and walked out before the self-proclaimed Dark Lord regained his breath. Charlus Potter, Alastor Moody and Henry Bones went with him, along with several others.

Glyphs, seeing Lucius flustered, gestured towards the door he had been about to enter. "My office, perhaps?"

Following Samuel into his office, Lucius saw that the decor befitted a man who was both soldier and scholar- bookshelves crammed with reference material, interspersed with trophies of past battles and achievements. On the wall behind his desk was mounted an old-looking Muggle rifle. Knowing Samuel, it was not only functional, but loaded.

Any weapon within his easy reach would be.

Taking the seat in front of his desk, Lucius waited until the older American was settled. "What is the meaning of throwing a knife at my son? You could have killed him!"

Samuel arched an eyebrow and responded, "If I wanted him dead, he would be."

Lucius, on the back foot, sat back. Samuel then continued.

"Your son, Lucius, seems to think that being a Malfoy is a free pass to do and say whatever the Hell he wants with no consequences, that Daddy will clean up his messes. This is a dangerous attitude for your Heir to have at his age- unless you've designated Ophelia to inherit?"

The reference to his daughter, just starting her first year in Ravenclaw, startled Lucius out of his paralysis. He was secretly glad his daughter had avoided the Snake Pit- maybe she could make a separate name for herself without that Dark reputation held over her head.

"Your son seems to believe he can do as he wants- a dangerous attitude in this day and age. Someday, he'll be Head of the Malfoy family- and if he doesn't get some remedial lessons in cunning and subtlety, he'll run the family into the ground in short order. My advice, Lucius? Either designate Ophelia your Heir, or- if you're still hell-bent on a male Heir, talk Narcissa into bearing you another son while she's still young enough to have children. Oh, and remind him that even Malfoys have their social superiors- before he pisses off someone who demands his head in reparation."

Lucius, the wind thoroughly knocked out of his sails, sat back and ran a hand down his face. He knew Samuel well enough to know that this was honest observation and serious advice. Severus, as Draco's godfather, would downplay the boy's faults- or blame them on Potter. Samuel, however, was fond of the saying, "This ain't no bakery, I ain't sugarcoating anything for you." Lucius began to wonder just what his son was REALLY up to here at school.

A/N: For those curious, my vision of the Death Eaters is derived from cults like the Branch Davidians- an originally peaceful social/political/religious movement that fell under the sway of a madman, who then took them down a road to ruin, and eventual self-destruction. The Death Eaters in my story were originally a Traditionalist party within the Wizengamot, but things spiralled out of control when Tommy Riddle went through one empowerment ritual too many and went insane.


	5. It's Always Darkest

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 5: It's Always Darkest...

6 Sep 1994

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hospital Wing

1841 GMT

"THREE YEARS, POPPY! HE'S BEEN YOUR PATIENT FOR THREE DAMN YEARS! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU MISS THIS?"

Mediwitch Poppy Pomfrey, the Matron of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, visibly cringed before her colleague, Professor Samuel Jason Glyphs, the new Head of Gryffindor- and as such, the man who was to act in loco parentis for all Gryffindors while at school- including her current patient, Harry James Potter.

The argument had started with a seemingly innocent moment. Potter and two of his friends, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, had been roughhousing in the Gryffindor Common Room when Potter's shirt had hiked up, enough for Glyphs to catch a glimpse of thick, ropey scars on Potter's back.

Bringing Potter down to the Hospital Wing, Glyphs had demanded a full medical workup for his charge, and Poppy was appalled. Scars consistent with whipping. Broken bones that had set wrong. Soft tissue damage, going back years. How HAD she missed this?

Samuel's eyes narrowed as a glassiness crossed Poppy's eyes. Though esper-blind and incapable of Legilimency, he recognized the signs.

Obliviation and Compulsion. Someone had programmed Poppy with regards to Potter.

A quick Stunner and Samuel was laying the Mediwitch in an unoccupied bed, discreetly firing another Stunner at the portrait on the wall as he attempted to leave, probably to report to Poppy's programmer. Slipping a small crystal out of his pocket, Samuel called, "Samuel for Leona."

A sharp PING was followed by a familiar voice, "What's wrong, darling?"

Samuel replied, "I need you up here in the Hospital Wing, liebchen. Poppy's been programmed, and I need your Legilimency to sort this out."

"On my way."

A few minutes later, the Hospital Wing doors opened, and in strode Leona Katarina Weissheit- Glyphs, Samuel's wife. A blond-haired, blue-eyed German with large round glasses (giving her an appearance suggestive of an owl), Leona quickly brushed past her husband, all business, as she opened Poppy Pomfrey's eyes and began her Legilimency probe.

Samuel stood sentinel as his wife probed the Mediwitch's mind. Ten minutes after she began, Leona finished her probe and sat back. Samuel asked, "Well?"

"Deprogrammed, she'll be back to her old self within a day. I'd suggest leaving her unconscious until then."

"Was it who we suspected?"

"The primary, yes, but if the secondary's involved, Poppy has no memory of him."

"Best you disappear for now, dear heart. This part's gonna get... bloody."

"So I'm guessing I won't see you at dinner?"

Holding up a medallion shaped like an hourglass, Samuel smirked and replied, "Of course I'll be there. I need an alibi after all."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIITIME BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

One Hour Later

The hooded wizard slipped into the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, seething. That blasted Medibitch hadn't reported in, and his portrait spy wasn't responding either! He needed to-

His thought of what he needed to do was cut off by a large piece of wood colliding with his nose at high velocity. The hooded wizard hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Samuel Glyphs, standing over the figure, spun a milled (and now bloody) length of hickory in his hand and quipped, "Louisville Slugger- when you absolutely, positively must beat a man's brains in right now- accept no substitutes."

Crouching over his victim, he pulled back the hood and smirked, "Well, well, well, Snivellus- you've been a bad boy. I'm gonna have to spank you now." Pulling a medallion from his pocket, he wrapped it around Snape's wand hand- 'accidentally' breaking his wand in the process- then gripped his robes tightly and said, "Semper Fidelis", and both men were whisked away in a swirl of colour, leaving the Hospital Wing occupied only by the sleeping forms of Poppy Pomfrey and Harry Potter.

IIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

The Chamber of Secrets

A Short Time Later

Severus Snape awoke to find himself in darkness, bound tighter than ever before and thus unable to move. A raspy voice spoke from the darkness.

"Severus Tobias Snape. Death Eater. Murderer. Betrayer. Poisoner. You have turned traitor against every friend and ally you ever had. You've poisoned the minds of those around you, and sabotaged both the light and the dark in pursuit of your own self-interest. You've bespelled the Headmaster into your puppet, and the school Mediwitch to ignore your abuses. Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think I wouldn't know what evil lurks in your cold, blackened heart? I tell you now, Greasy little man- THE SHADOW KNOWS."

Loud, nearly-maniacal laughter echoed through what was obviously a very large chamber as Snape made the connection.

"GLYPHS!"

A small pool of illumination appeared about twenty feet above Snape to reveal Samuel Glyphs leaning lazily on an unidentifiable object.

"Hello, Greasetrap."

"I'll have your HEAD for this, you Yankee bastard!"

"Hey, I'll have you know my parents were married well before I was born! My mother, on the other hand..."

"Release me at once!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Snivellus. You seem to be under the impression you can make demands- or that you're leaving here alive."

Snape went cold. "Dumbledore would know if you removed me through the wards."

"Yeah, funny thing about those wards. The stop Apparition completely, and prevent Portkeys from crossing them. But there's nothing to prevent a point-to-point Portkey that both begins and ends its trip inside the wards. Heck, unless you try to cross the boundaries, the wards don't even DETECT Portkey use. I was lucky enough to convince one of my Lions- purely for the safety of the school, mind you- to give me her Pensieve memory of a room only she and one other have set foot in in the last fifty years."

The light level flared as magical torches burst to life around them, revealing the fabled Chamber of Secrets in all its grandeur. Severus, however, was more focused on the FRICKING HUGE snake head hanging over him which Glyphs was currently using as a seat.

"Just can't take your eyes off Blinky here, can you? She is quite the impressive one, so... SLINKY. I'm sure you've heard of the Punishment of Loki, right? After he killed Balder as a 'prank', he was chained to a rock with a poisonous viper over his head, dripping a very painful venom onto his forehead. One drop here, however, will see YOUR head dissolving. And before you get the bright idea to come back as a ghost and accuse me, know that the faint shimmer around you is known as an Exorcist's Ward. If you don't cross over willingly when you die, the ward will... force the issue- quite painfully, I understand. So long, Greasy- in the end, you had to know your sins would come back to haunt you." With that, Glyphs kicked the nose of the serpent, jarring loose a single drop of venom that Snape watched, horrified, as it fell towards his left eye.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

The Great Hall

One hour Earlier

Samuel Glyphs, tucking his Time-Turner back into his shirt, slipped into the Great Hall and took his seat beside his wife for dinner. Leona glanced up, raising an eyebrow.

"It's done."

"Which plan?"

"Loki."

Leona sighed and shook her head. "You didn't used to be this melodramatic."

"Hey, people change. I was a naive kid once upon a time."

Both watched as Severus Snape rose from the table, off to investigate why his spy in the infirmary hadn't reported yet today.

"I say we linger over the meal. It's been a while since we truly relaxed."

"True. When he doesn't return, should I offer my services to Albus while he looks for a permanent replacement?"

"That is a brilliant idea, my darling wife."

CHAPTER END


	6. Before the Dawn

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 6: ...Before the Dawn

7 Sep 1994

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

Great Hall

0743 GMT

Samuel and Leona Glyphs were enjoying their breakfast when Albus Dumbledore came rushing into the Great Hall. With a gesture he motioned Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, and Pomona Sprout to follow him into an antechamber. Glancing at each other, Samuel and Leona quickly followed. Albus began securing the room when he registered Samuel's presence.

"Samuel, I did not request your presence..."

"Well, as it seemed you were calling a meeting of senior staff, I believed it behooved your new Head of Gryffindor to be present."

Albus shook his head like a dog drying off. "Forgive me, Samuel. Your appointment was so recent and I'll admit, I'm a little rattled..."

"Well, Uncle Al, if it's disturbing enough to rattle you, we probably can't waste any time for your usual rambling delivery. Spit it out, man!"

"Yes, it seems Severus is missing. He is nowhere in the castle, and the wards report that he never crossed them, even by Portkey. We are searching everywhere, but there is no sign of him."

As the other senior staff started to get worked up, Samuel looked thoughtful. Suddenly he snapped out, "QUIET!" As the other professors fell into a hush, Samuel continued, "The most important thing is to keep the students calm until we locate him. Al, you're going to announce to the Hall that Sev was called away on a family emergency. We need to find a substitute Potions Professor for the interim."

"Samuel, Potions Masters are few and far between around here..."

"Bullshit, Al- you have three in this room alone- you, me, and Leona. I already have a full schedule though-"

"Albus?" Leona spoke up, her accent identifying her as coming from the Black Forest region of Germany.

"Yes, my dear?" Albus smiled. He'd always had a soft spot for his Germanic grandniece-in-law.

As you know, I freelance for various research companies. My last contract ended three weeks ago, and I have yet to decide where to go from here. I'd be happy to watch the Potions position for Severus for the time being."

"Of course, Leona dear. You will be a welcome temporary addition to our faculty."

"Good, now that that's settled, we need a fill-in for the Head of Slytherin. Aurora is the seniormost Snake on staff, right Min?"

"Yes, Samuel," McGonagall sighed. She hated when Samuel shortened her name like that. Aurora Sinistra should have been given the Head of Slytherin position when Horace Slughorn retired, but in a move that violated tradition and probably only made sense to Albus, he'd passed over both Aurora and Septima Vector, another Slytherin alumnus, to appoint newly hired Severus Snape as Head of Slytherin. The seniormost alumnus of a House on the faculty was supposed to be Head of that House. She had tapped Samuel as her replacement for Gryffindor because only she and Albus from the current faculty had been Gryffindors as students.

"Alright, with Leona covering Potions and Aurora covering Head of Slytherin, we keep things as normal as possible for the students. Meanwhile, Mr. Filch and the House-Elves continue the search for clues. Above all, we NEED TO ACT NORMAL. If the students sense we're worried or on edge, they'll get worried and on edge. We keep things, on the surface, as normal as possible. Understood?"

Samuel had such a well-practiced commanding air that the other Professors found themselves nodding before they realized it.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Potions Classroom

0901 GMT

Leona looked out over her first class, fourth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. She smirked at how easily her husband had manipulated Albus into hiring her. Albus was so used to using Legilimency (and the odd Compulsion) on the rare occasions his word alone was not enough that he forgot the old-fashioned, non-magical methods of manipulation from time to time.

"Good morning, class," Leona began, her German accent fading into her acquired "Briticized" English. "As Professor Dumbledore announced at breakfast this morning, Professor Snape is handling a family emergency and will be away for an indeterminate time. Until he returns, I shall be covering his Potions classes. My name is Professor Weissheit. Yes, I am married to Professor Glyphs, but am currently using my maiden name to avoid the confusion of two Professors Glyphs. Now, our class period will begin with, I'm sorry to say, a pop quiz." Groans echoed across the chamber. "I know, I know, but Professor Snape was in such a rush to depart he didn't leave me notes on where you were in your lessons, nor did he leave his lesson plans behind. I need to know where you are to teach you effectively. Books away, quills and ink at the ready-" Parchment quizzes flew from her hands to every student in the room. "BEGIN!"

An hour later, the end-of-class bell rang, and the students filed out, leaving their tests on her desk. This would be repeated in every class that day.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Glyphs Private Quarters

1922 GMT

Samuel Glyphs sat, somewhat bemused, as his wife corrected parchments from her classes that day, and became increasingly irritated. Samuel didn't speak nearly as many languages as his wife did, but he'd known her long enough to recognize swear words in German, Spanish, French, Portuguese, Danish, Swahili, Farsi, Arabic, Goblin, Mermish, Hindi, Japanese, Russian, Chinese and Cherokee. Leaning over, he whispered, "So, you worked up into enough of a lather yet?"

Leona glared at her husband, then hissed, "How could Albus let this incompetent schweinhund remain at his post this long? I'm gonna tear the old goat a new asshole, then shove something large, hot and spiky up it!"

Smirking, Samuel took his wife by the elbow and steered her towards the door. "Save it for the senile fool in the tower, dear heart. Let's go chat with him now."

To call Leona's conversation with Albus a tirade would be like saying Genghis Khan dabbled in real estate acquisitions- covering the basics but failing utterly to cover the magnitude. Her tirade would have completely drowned out a Molly Weasley Howler and actually sent Fawkes fleeing for the mountains, which he would not return from for three weeks. Her voice was heard throughout the castle, and only the fact that she seemingly randomly shifted between the fifty-seven languages she spoke when she started swearing kept the entire school from being traumatized. Albus heard, in excruciating detail, how Snape had failed to teach basic lab safety, proper ingredient preparations, ingredient interactions, or any of the other basic and important information the students should have received before they lit their first cauldron. Samuel, smirking at Albus's discomfort, amused himself by casting analysis charms on random objects throughout Albus's office- and setting a few harmless-but-amusing pranks on a few objects. Samuel later dubbed the reaming Albus received "The Shout Heard 'Round the World".

If you think it's dangerous to piss off a U.S. Marine, try pissing off his wife.

CHAPTER END

A/N: I know that my 'Samuel Glyphs' profile on my homepage states that Leona died in 1979. That profile was written for my other multichapter fic, "Taking Charge", in which Leona and their youngest daughter Adina died in a Death Eater attack. However, I needed Samuel to have a partner/coconspirator in this fic, so their 'death' became a 'near-miss' in this storyline.


	7. Possibilities

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 7: Possibilities

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

16 Sep 1994

Gryffindor Head's Office

1722 GMT

Samuel Glyphs sighed as he plowed through the mountain of parchment homework before him. Hogwarts really needed to provide a remedial writing course- grading assignments went so much slower when you had to decipher the poor spelling, worse grammar, and vague sentence structure.

A knock at his office door brought Samuel out of his concentration. "Enter!' he called, somewhat surprised when fourth year Harry Potter entered his office. "Yes Mr. Potter, how can I help you?"

Harry sat in the visitor's chair across from the Professor, and shuffled his feet. "Um, Professor, you said to come to you with any problems..."

"And you have a problem?"

"Well, I don't know if you can help, but I really don't want to continue with Divination. Professor Trelawney still predicts my death every lesson..."

"Hmmm, yes, I can see where that would get on your nerves after a while. The thing is, Mr. Potter, you're required to have at least two electives through fifth year, so we would need to choose an alternate course for you to take... and at this point you would be a year behind."

"So, you can't...?"

"I didn't say that, Mr. Potter. We just need to pick an alternate course you can get caught up in in a short amount of time. Now, your other elective is Care of Magical Creatures, correct?"

"Yes, Professor."

"That leaves Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Household Spells and Magical First Aid. Much as I would love to have more of my Lions in my class, I'll be first to admit it's the toughest option. Arithmancy, at least in third and fourth year, is simply a math course... if you can do algebra and geometry, you're fine through the end of fourth year. Muggle Studies, much as I like Professor Burbage, is useless to a Muggleborn or Muggleraised, as most of her information is either out of date or just plain wrong."

"How...?"

"I've spent my life crossing back and forth between both worlds. I daresay I'm probably the most informed member of the faculty- except maybe my wife Professor Weissheit- when it comes to the nonmagical world. This past summer, I caught the latest Disney release, The Lion King- excellent story, by the way- and a good prison drama called The Shawshank Redemption. Professor Burbage is still a little foggy on the concept of motion pictures."

"Oh. I wish I got the chance to see movies over the summer."

Samuel scowled at that. The recent medical report Poppy had filed with Wizarding Child Welfare was currently moving through the bureaucracy at the expected pace- meaning it might actually be reviewed before Harry became a legal adult and rendered the whole issue moot. Samuel would keep an eye on his young lion, and intervene if he felt it necessary.

"Well, back to our discussion- Household Spells is basically a Home Economics course done with wands- cooking, cleaning, sewing, repairs, that sort of thing. Madame Hooch teaches that one- Flying Lessons and refereeing Quidditch really doesn't take up much of her time. Magical First Aid is what it sounds like- emergency medical care. Madame Pomfrey teaches that. You've probably seen some of her students helping out in the Hospital Wing from time to time. It's a good base course if you're looking to become a Healer or mediwizard."

"What's the difference?"

"A Healer is roughly equivalent to a Doctor. A mediwizard or mediwitch, like Madame Pomfrey, is more akin to a cross between a nurse and an orderly- they basically do the scut-work for the Healers, and handle things they think beneath them."

"They sound arrogant."

"Both Doctors and Healers can be that way, Mr. Potter, but the highly demanding training they go through weeds out the weak and leaves the skilled and dedicated, so some measure of it is sort of deserved- as long as they don't go too far with it. My mother, Adele, was a Healer. She was in school for six years following her NEWTs to achieve that."

"Hmmm, well, I was pretty good with Geometry, and we would have started Algebra the same year I started Hogwarts if I stayed in the Muggle school system."

"I can tutor you to get you caught up, if you'd like?"

"Really?"

"If you do well enough, I think I can convince Professor Vector to give you the end-of-term exam in December. Pass that, and she'll gladly take you into the fourth year Arithmancy class, allowing you to drop Divination if you'd like. I never understood why Divination is a class here, anyway. You either have the gift or not, no training can change that. Mostly it's a class that attracts students looking for an easy grade."

Harry looked down, red faced. That was why he and Ron had signed up.

Samuel smirked, knowing the reason for Harry's blush. "Head on down to dinner, Mr. Potter. I'll put together an exam for you to determine what you know and what I'll have to teach you to get you caught up. Be here in my office at seven o'clock tonight sharp. Got me?"

"Yes, Professor." Harry jumped up and headed out the door.

"God, was I ever that young and energetic?"

A female voice answered him from the Hallway door, "What are you talking about, love? You're STILL that young at heart!"

Samuel turned to see his wife Leona standing in the door, arms crossed and smirking at him. She strolled into the office and ran her fingers through his hair.

"He's a good kid, Lee. I just wish there was more we could do for him."

"Patience, Sam. Certain events need to unfold a certain way, or all will be lost, you know that. We can only guide him to the true path- away from Albus's senile delusions of a 'Greater Good', and he'll get the 'happily ever after' he deserves."

"You know me too well, love."

"Sam, you've been a sucker for Disney since Snow White. Live with it. It's only a few more months, then things will turn out as they should."

"If only the old man wasn't so secretive! This could have been solved a decade ago if he just TRUSTED someone!"

"Unfortunately, that is who Albus is. We'll work around him. And get young Harry on the path he truly belongs on." She glanced down at the runic wristbands they both wore on their right wrists. "Soon, Sam. Soon."

CHAPTER END


	8. A-Hunting We Will Go!

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 8: A-Hunting We Will Go!

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster's Office

2 Oct 1994

1922 GMT

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat serenely at his desk as his Head of Gryffindor, Samuel Glyphs, slumped into a chair in his usual bad-postured style. Also as usual, Samuel's entire question was conveyed in a raised eyebrow, Why am I here THIS time?

"Samuel, do you know why I called you here?"

"Depends on what you think you have evidence on."

Albus smirked at the almost-ritualistic reply. The implication that Samuel was a misbehaving student was something of a running gag between Albus and his brother's grandson.

"I called you here because I need to consult you on the matter of Voldemort, and how he survived being disembodied in 1981."

"Oh, you're finally going to bring me in on the Horcrux hunt then?"

Albus looked up, startled, and reached for his wand...

...Only to hit the far wall spread-eagled, stuck there, and his wand seemingly glued to the far wall.

"Honestly, Uncle Al, how many times do we have to do this before you accept I'm quicker on the draw than you?"

Samuel was now sitting, right ankle on left knee, tapping his maple wand in the palm of his right hand.

"How..."

"...Did I know about Horcruxes? Al, those vile bits of Necromancy have been around practically since the Bronze Age. Any trained Curse Breaker knows not only how to detect them, but several methods to destroy them. I tried on several occasions to talk to you about Snake-Lips's seeming immortality, but you brushed it off, convinced, as always, that Albus Dumbledore knows everything and we peons know nothing."

Albus found himself unglued from the wall, and moved to his chair. His wand, however, did not move.

Albus knew better than to challenge him on that.

"And really, Al, you gotta get over this Obliviate reflex of yours. It's gonna get you in trouble one of these days. And that's ignoring the fact that you still don't seem to get that Esper-Blind is ABSOLUTE mental defense. You're not gonna Obliviate me, even if backed by your precious Elder Wand."

Albus once more was chagrined at his ability to forget just how good a detective his nephew was.

"Anyway, Tom has made seven Horcruxes..."

"Six."

"Pardon?"

"Six Horcruxes. That soul fragment behind Potter's scar was just that... a stray soul fragment. When I found it last month while he was laid up in the Hospital Wing, it was almost destroyed already. Between Potter's native magic and the Sowilo Aegis Barrier placed on him by Lily and fueled by her death..."

"You know the nature of Lily's protection?"

"And I would have told you all about it if you'd been willing to LISTEN. Anyhoo, the Riddle soul fragment was already wiped of all personality and memories, its magic purified to neutral, the magic core fragment and its Parselmouth talent pemanently grafted onto Potter's own core, giving him a permanent boost of about 20 points on the Hammerstein. Honestly, when I ripped that thing out of his head, it didn't even put up a fight."

Albus slumped in his chair, relieved that Harry wouldn't have to die, and at the same time chagrined that he'd overlooked Samuel's usefulness so thoroughly.

"Well, six Horcruxes, then. Thankfully, Harry destroyed one during his second year, a simple diary planted on Ginevra Weasley. There are five more to find..."

"Two. I've dealt with three more."

Albus just stared at his nephew blankly for almost a minute before stuttering once more' "H-How...?"

"I used to like the guy before he went batshit insane, remember? I've been tracking his movements since before he declared himself the latest Dark Asshat. I'm guessing you have a lead on one?"

"Yes, a coastal cave in Brighton..."

"Slytherin's Locket, took care of that one in '83."

"Um..."

"Cave was sealed with a Bloodward. Spilled a vial of previously-drawn blood on the seal and it opened right up. Then, a few Thermite depth charges took care of the Inferi-filled lake. At the center, rather than drink the poison in the font, I used a cordless hammer drill with stone-cutting bit, purchased at any Muggle hardware store, to drill a hole in the bottom and let it drain. Locket had already been swapped out by a Death Eater who turned, R.A.B. Only Death Eater, ever, by those initials was Regulus Arcturus Black, who went missing in 1980. I met with Lord Arcturus Black, showed him the note, and he called Regulus's house-elf, Kreacher. Kreacher produced the Locket, had to be restrained from beating himself for failing to destroy it as Reggie ordered him to. A quick ritual to transfer the soul fragment to a tissue, a REALLY good blowing of the nose later, and a flame curse destroyed that soul fragment. I left the now-cleansed Locket with Archie. The end."

"Lord Black knew about Horcruxes?"

"And was a smart enough man to avoid them. Don't get me wrong, Archie's a dyed-in-the-wool Pureblood bigot, but he knows that Voldie's way is the way of madness and self-destruction for all wizardkind. Throw in the fact that Voldie was responsible for the deaths of his son and grandson, and Archie was more than happy to get a little revenge on Voldie... and if there's one thing a Black understands, it's revenge."

"And the other two?"

"Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem, hidden right here in Hogwarts when he came to interview for the DADA position back in '61. Hid it in the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor, in the Room of Hidden Things, or as I like to call it, Hogwarts' Attic. Picked that one up in 1970 when I first discovered the Room, cleansed it and hid it in a new location. "Hufflepuff's Chalice was actually a stroke of luck. I, er, had a run-in with Bella in '79 when she was on her way to put the Cup in her Gringotts vault. I transfigured a replica, Confunded Bella into believing it was the original, then Obliviated her of our little run-in. The cup is now de-Horcruxed and re-hidden."

"Where, Samuel? Where are they?"

"The Cup? I activated its healing properties on the lowest setting, Glamoured it to look like an ordinary Chalice, and replaced your drinking goblet with it. Your pumpkin juice has been laced with a mild restorative since '79. You're welcome."

Albus simply stared at Samuel, mouth a-gape.

"As for the Diadem, no dice, Al. That's my little secret."

"Samuel..."

Samuel smirked. Even past the centennial mark, the man could still do a really effective 'puppy-dog eyes'. "Let's make it a game, shall we? I'll give you one solid fact and one riddle to lead you to the Diadem. If, by the end of the school year, you fail to locate it, I will a) mock you and laugh at you all summer, and b) show you where I hid it."

Knowing when he'd gotten as much as he was going to get from his nephew, Albus sighed and said, "Very well. What is my fact?"

"The Diadem is still in the castle. Not the grounds, but in Hogwarts herself."

"And my riddle?"

Samuel smirked. "Riddle me this: What is the best place to hide something that everyone KNOWS is lost?"

And, with a wink, Samuel stood and walked out of the office.

CHAPTER END

A/N (added next day): To all of you who posted answers in reviews- thank you for ruining for me a funny moment later in my story. The riddle was obvious, with an obvious answer, and was meant for Albus, not the reader. It was supposed to highlight the lack of logic in wizards (something Hermione pointed out at least once in canon) and be a major argument when Samuel convinces Albus that Hogwarts NEEDS a class in logic and critical reasoning. In the future, if you have a guess at one of my plot points, PLEASE post it in a PM and NOT a review. -Drauchenfyre


	9. Arrival

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 9: Arrival

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

30 Oct 1994

1808 GMT

Samuel Glyphs and his wife, Leona, were headed back towards Hogwarts castle following the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contingents for the Triwizard Tournament when an unexpected, yet very familiar, voice rang out.

"Gran-Pere!"

Samuel spun around barely in time to catch the fourteen year old blonde who struck him in a tackle-hug.

"Cabbage! I wasn't expecting you!"

Colette Delacour, daughter of Samuel and Leona's daughter Elena, scowled at her grandfather and replied, "Gran-pere, how many times must I tell you it is mon petit chou?"

"Oh, so it's alright to call you 'my little cabbage' in French, but not in English?"

Colette rolled her eyes, smiling, at her grandfather's ritualistic response. It was an argument they'd had, word for word, every time they met for years.

A boy of about seventeen, with sandy-blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes like Colette's, ambled up to the trio, smiling. "Gran-Mere, Gran-Pere, it is good to see you."

Leona reached out and pulled her grandson into her embrace, "Rafael, I assume you are here to enter the Triwizard?"

"But of course, Gran-Mere, I am, after all, the top student in my year!"

"And yet," Leona replied, quirking an eyebrow, "you were not selected as Head Boy?"

"That would be because he can't stay out of detention, Mom."

An older blonde, accompanied by her brown-haired husband, had strolled up to the group, a willowy platinum blonde of seventeen drifting in their wake.

"Elena, Pierre. So glad you're in the teaching contingent for this little outing. But why bring Colette? She's far too young for this Tournament!"

Elena Delacour smirked at her mother, "Because Deputy Headmaster Roquefort refused to allow her to remain unless one of us stayed behind to corral the little hellion."

"I am NOT a hellion!"

"Your discipline record would suggest otherwise, young lady," Pierre told his daughter sternly.

Samuel, grinning at his granddaughter's pout, turned to the last member of their little group and said, "Can this be little Fleur? I haven't seen you since you were, what, six?"

Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons Head Girl, smiled at her favorite teacher/aunt's father and replied, "I was eight, Uncle Samuel, but I will forgive you as you rounded down as a man should when guessing a woman's age."

"So I'm assuming you are also here to compete?"

"I shall be the Beauxbatons Champion, Uncle, and even Rafael will weep at my obvious superiority!"

"Highly unlikely, cousin!"

The family, laughing in easy camaraderie, turned and moved towards the castle, the students streaming around them.

Elena, seeing a pair of students wave to her father, whispered to him, "Father, are they...?"

"Yes, daughter, that would be Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

"And do they...?"

"No. It is not yet time. But I am glad you are here, Pumpkin. With your help, our plan can go a bit smoother, and we can discard some of our more risky options."

Herbology Professor Elena Delacour nodded, trusting in her father's plan.

After all, he knew what he was doing...

He'd done this sort of thing before.

CHAPTER END

A/N: A repeat of a request to my readers- if you have a guess at one of my plot points, PLEASE either keep it to yourself or ask me in a PM, but PLEASE DON'T post it in a review and ruin the 'surprise' for the other readers!

A/N2: I suck at typing accents, so imagine that Pierre, Fleur, Rafael and Colette have French accents, Leona's is German, and Samuel and Elena a Boston twang.


	10. The Drawing of the Four

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 10: The Drawing of the Four

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

A Small Room Off the Great Hall

31 Oct 1994

1919 GMT

Harry stood, just inside the door, staring at the three Champions: Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory. This couldn't be happening. All he'd wanted was a nice, quiet year. Maybe ask out the witch he was interested in, and certainly NOT being the center of attention at Hogwarts for once in his life.

And then his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. It was a nightmare.

The door opened behind him, Harry turning and stepping away as Headmasters Dumbledore and Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Moody and Glyphs, and Directors Bagman and Crouch entered the room, though only Professor Glyphs was welcome in Harry's eyes.

But then, the rest were scowling, while Glyphs sent him a look that said, Stay calm, I'll handle this.

"Harry, my boy-"

"HEADMASTER!" Glyphs snapped at Dumbledore, startling everyone. "Unless there has been a change in protocol wherein it is acceptable for your students to address you as 'Albus', you will refer to Mr. Potter as 'Mr. Potter', not 'Harry my boy'!"

Glyphs then turned to Harry and said, "Mr. Potter, did you enter your name in the Goblet of Fire, or ask another to do so on your behalf?"

"No, Professor."

"DO NOT LIE, BOY..."

Nobody was able to really follow what happened following Karkaroff's verbal outburst, but the end result was Glyphs holding Karkaroff against the wall by his throat- twenty feet away and six inches off the ground- and glaring at the Durmstrang Head with murderous eyes.

Moody and McGonagall moved to intervene, but Dumbledore stopped them. Glyphs may be an academic now, but he still kept up his training as a Marine. Dumbledore was well aware that a wrong move with Glyphs and Karkaroff in this position could see Glyphs reflexively twist his wrist and snap Karkaroff's neck.

They would have to wait.

In a deadly calm, chilling voice, Glyphs intoned, "Don't think I've forgotten our unfinished business, Death Eater- you are the last man standing from the Attack Force that killed my youngest daughter and her fiance in '79. You are a coward who ratted out his friends to save his own hide, rather than go to Azkaban for your crimes. You have never repented for your sins. The only reason I didn't kill you the moment you set foot on Hogwarts grounds was at Albus Dumbledore's request. But keep a civil tongue in your head, betrayer, for my forbearance has limits."

Releasing Karkaroff, who slumped to the ground, Glyphs turned to Harry, all bright and smiling, and said, "I believe you, Mr. Potter, but some people-" a totally unnecessary glare at Karkaroff- "will need proof. Did anyone ever teach you how to swear a magical oath?"

"You did just last month, Professor."

Glyphs smirked, "Imagine that. So you're aware of the consequence of lying in a magical oath?"

"Yes sir."

"You know what to do then, Mr. Potter."

Albus moved to intervene, but Glyphs glared at him, his right hand moving to the back of his belt as he palmed a wand with his left. Albus settled as Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the ceiling.

"Ego Fideis. I, Harrison James Potter, do so swear on my magic that I did not enter my name in the Goblet of Fire for consideration in the 1994 Triwizard Tournament, nor did I ask another to do so on my behalf. On my magic, I so swear. Ego Fideis." Harry pointed his wand into a clear portion of the room, and called, "Expecto Patronum!"

A brilliant white stag erupted from his wand, cantered about for a few seconds, then looked at Harry and faded at his nod.

"Now that Mr. Potter has proven he didn't enter of his own free will, how do we go about exercising the escape clause in the Goblet's contract?"

"Uh, escape clause?" Bagman replied, bewildered.

Glyphs glared at all three School Heads and both Ministry officials responsible for the Tournament. "Tell me you morons didn't subject STUDENTS to an artifact with no escape clause."

"The Goblet of Fire is the Arbiter of the Tournament. It is tradition."

"So was slavery, but society and the law evolved past that barbarism."

Glyphs glared at the other adults in the room. "Unbelievable. As if Hogwarts doesn't have enough problems with the incidents of the last three years, now we have this. Brief the four Champions, Barty, so we can get out of here. I have a feeling I'm going to have to exert some authority over my more unruly and thickheaded Lions."

After Barty's quick intro, the meeting broke up, with Glyphs and Harry headed toward Gryffindor Tower. As the reality of the tournament crashed down on Harry, he burst into the nearest bathroom (Myrtle's, ironically), and proceeded to vomit up his dinner. As Glyphs stood by in the hall, his daughter Elena glided out of a secret panel behind him.

"We're a go?"

"Yes," replied Samuel, "Crouch has served his purpose. I'll be removing him before he endangers Harry further. The Tower?"

"As expected. Mom already shot down their proposal of Exclusion by promising those 'self-destruct' exercises of yours to anyone who votes in favor of it. Young Ronald Weasley, though, is still ranting about 'Bloody Potter gets everything'."

Samuel sighed, "I'd hoped their friendship would survive this, but I guess it was a fool's hope. His selfishness and jealousy was always going to be an issue."

Elena nodded and slipped back into the shadows as Harry emerged from the loo, to continue on to Gryffindor Tower.

CHAPTER END

A/N: The 'self-destruct': for those of you who never encountered this phenomenon in boot camp (or never attended boot camp), a self-destruct is a punishment exercise. Ten reps each of eight different exercises (pushups, situps, fingertip pushups, etc.) all constituted ONE self-destruct. They were always assigned in sets of ten. Just watching one of my shipmates in Navy Boot Camp go through that was enough to ensure I toed the line and never earned any myself.


	11. Plans in Execution

The New Leader of the Pride

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

Chapter 11: Plans in Execution

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Faculty Lounge

1 Nov 1994

0701 GMT

Samuel and Leona Glyphs strolled into the faculty lounge for Albus's 'I screwed up and want to exert my authority by making everyone feel guilty for failing' staff meetings (as Samuel liked to call them, anyway). Already, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Sinistra, Vector and Moody were in the room. Tipping a nod to his wife, Samuel walked over to the breakfast buffet, where Alastor Moody was scrutinizing the scrambled eggs.

"Hey Mad-Eye."

"Samuel."

"Whoa, Al, you finally mellowed? I've never seen you let someone call you 'Mad-Eye' without at least a token scowl before."

Moody's natural eye widened for a few beats, then he replied, "Um, I got used to it. Realized people were gonna call me that no matter what I said, and stopped arguing."

Quirking an eyebrow at the man he was already suspicious of, Samuel continued as Hagrid and Maxime, along with the professors from Beauxbatons, entered the room. "Say, have you heard from Nall lately?"

"Nall?" Moody glared at Glyphs.

Glyphs, speaking slowly, replied, "Nall? My son?"

"Don't see why he'd be contacting me. Was he supposed to?"

Suspicions confirmed, a length of milled hickory slid out of Glyphs's right sleeve into his hand. "My son has never failed to send you, his godfather, a card on your birthday, which was two weeks ago."

'Moody', realizing he was found out, he spun toward Glyphs, who was already in mid-swing. The Defense Professor didn't even have time to pull his wand before the right side of his head exploded in pain and he hit the floor, hard, and already unconscious.

"Add to that," Samuel continued, twirling his Louisville Slugger in his hand, "The real Alastor Moody would never have fallen for a cheap-shot hit like that."

"Samuel!" McGonagall shrieked.

"Call the Aurors, Min. We've got an imposter." Reaching into 'Moody's' coat, he pulled a familiar flask from inside, unscrewed the top, and sniffed. "Lee, honey, confirm this is what I think it is."

Leona stepped up beside her husband, took the flask, and sniffed, recoiling. "Ugh, definitely Polyjuice. We should know who he is within the hour."

"Until then..." Glyphs continued, drawing his wand and binding the unconscious man, while removing his wooden leg.

Filius Flitwick, shaken, made for the Floo in the corner, to call the Auror Department, as Minerva spoke to several portraits to alert both Dumbledore and Pomfrey that they were needed in the Teacher's Lounge.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIISCENE BREAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Gryffindor Head's Office

Right After Lunch

The Same Day

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger entered, at his request, the office of their Head of House, Samuel Glyphs. Seeing their nervous expressions, Samuel smiled and said, "Relax, you two. You're not in trouble. I just wanted to give you a heads-up on what happened this morning before Headmaster Dumbledore and Madame Bones make their announcement at dinner."

Relieved, both fourth years settled into their seats. Glyphs stood up and paced.

This morning, the man we all believed was Alastor Moody was revealed as an imposter under Polyjuice Potion. As if that wasn't bad enough, his true identity was a convicted Death Eater who supposedly died in Azkaban over a decade ago- Bartemius Crouch Junior. As you can imagine, both Bartys, Senior and Junior, are being thoroughly interrogated by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to find out the full extent of Junior's plan. Thus far, however, we were able to discover that you, Mr. Potter, were entered by Junior into the Tournament as an overly-elaborate method of kidnapping you to use you in a ritual to restore Moldyshorts to physical form." At Hermione's gasp, he paused and raised an eyebrow in her direction. Once she settled, he continued, "We also rescued the real Alastor Moody, who is my son's godfather, from being locked in a compartment of his own specially-enchanted trunk. It was the fact that the fake 'Moody' didn't recall my son Nalshay that tipped me off this morning." Seeing both students recoil at the name 'Nalshay', Samuel rolled his eyes and said, "Don't give me that look, my wife picked the name."

Resuming his seat, Samuel leaned forward and said, "Now that that's out of the way, let's talk about getting Mr. Potter through the Tournament in one piece. First off, neither I nor any other member of the faculty can directly help you. However, if Miss Granger, a known overachiever, were to ask her professors for some advanced spells to learn, she wouldn't have to mention she was sharing these new spells with her friend Mr. Potter. And before you work yourself up..." Glyphs glared at Hermione, who settled, "I at least think that Mr. Potter surviving the year is more important than a few technicalities of morality. Besides, a standing rule in ALL magical competitions is, "That which is not forbidden is allowed." While the rules stipulate that Mr. Potter cannot get help from the faculty, they say nothing about him getting help from someone else who is getting help from the faculty. One of the traditional challenges in the Tournament is learning how to finesse the rules. Also, there is a new house-elf here at Hogwarts named Dobby. He seems quite fascinated with you, Mr. Potter, and as he's staff and not faculty, he might drop in on you once in a while with some information he's 'overheard'."

Samuel was so glad he'd had that talk with Hermione earlier that year about house-elves. When she realized that an unbound elf would slowly lose his magic and die, she had been horrified at her assumptions and apologized profusely to the elves, who understood the typical Muggleborn reaction to what, to them, sounded like slavery. Dobby had actually bound himself to Harry within seconds of being freed from Lucius, though nobody in the know had mentioned this to Harry as of yet.

"One last thing, Miss Granger..." Professor Glyphs reached into his desk drawer. "As Mr. Potter is going to need your help, and all the time you can spare to hold up against three Champions who have years of education on him, I hope I can trust you with something I found in my desk, apparently left behind by Professor McGonagall, that she seems to have confiscated from you and never returned." A familiar hourglass-shaped pendant slid across the desk as Glyphs winked at Hermione. "You know the rules, Miss Granger- you must not be seen."

Hermione gasped, snatching up the Time-Turner, and thanking the Professor profusely as she pulled Harry out the door in her eagerness to start helping Harry.

Glyphs chuckled and said to the empty office, "And the next piece is in position."

CHAPTER END


	12. Combustive Halitosis

**The New Leader of the Pride**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

A/N: Apologies to my readers for the delay. I had this chapter written in full two weeks ago, but my computer crashed. After restoring the computer (to factory defaults, when nothing else worked), I've had to reconstruct this chapter from memory. Again, sorry, and hope you enjoy!

Chapter 12: Combustive Halitosis

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _16 Nov 1994_

 _1818 GMT_

 _Gryffindor Quiet Rooms (Under the Common Room)_

Samuel Glyphs stood outside one of the Quiet Study Rooms, seldom-used in Gryffindor Tower, listening to two of his fourth-years discussing what they had just learned of the First Task, when he heard a statement that seemed perfect for entering the conversation.

"Well, what about a Summoning Charm? I could summon my Firebolt and fly against the dragon..."

"Seriously, Mr. Potter?" Harry and Hermione whipped around to see their Head of House leaning casually against the doorframe. "That's your best idea for the First Task?"

"Why, I'm a good flyer..."

"For a human, Mr. Potter. A dragon is an apex predator with fangs, claws, spell-resistant hide and combustive halitosis, who is in her _element_ in the sky. Add to that she'll be a nesting mother protecting her clutch, making her angry from the start. But please, go right ahead, Mr. Potter, just make sure you have a will filed with Gringott's first."

 **Author's Note:** This is the first juncture where I am stuck. I don't want to use Rowling's method of defeating the task (while it is dramatic and exciting, tactically speaking it borders on suicidal, for the reasons Glyphs stated above). However, I don't have a solid tactic for this task. Suggestions would be welcome, and any I use will be credited. -Drauchenfyre


End file.
